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“Does this feel bad to you?” “No, I don’t mean—” I tilt my head back without thinking. “I mean, you and me. We’ve hated each other for ten years, made each other’s lives difficult—how do you know—” I will myself to stay focused as he brushes a thumb over my lower lip. “What if we’re bad at—liking each other? What if we don’t know how to be—civil—or nice—” “I’m not planning on being particularly nice,” he whispers. “And I don’t expect you to be either.” “But—” “It’s us, Sadie,” he says, like that’s answer enough. “When have we been bad at anything?”
For ten years I thought I was preparing to destroy you, when really I was preparing to love you.